What Goes Around Comes Around
by Villain
Summary: Kyle has been a very bad boy, juggling three sets of balls at the same time. But what happens when his affairs find out about each other? Cartman/Kyle, Stan/Kyle, Kenny/Kyle


A/N: Forgive me the title. Feeling punny... This is a very, _very_ naughty story. This might be the most sex-filed story I've EVER written, plot actually included!

...

**What Goes Around Cums Around**

Monday morning. Kyle was early to work, as he always was at the beginning of the week, much to the chagrin of his coworkers. Like any overachiever, he was at first viewed as a workplace pariah, though he'd managed to work his way into the hearts of every woman on staff with little effort. The men didn't quite know what to make of him. They weren't sure if he was a player, or a total flamer. Really, the only thing any of them knew was that he didn't take and shit, from anyone. Including the CEO.

Stopping by his office to pick up the report he finished Friday evening, Kyle made his way to the elevator, striding past the coffee-soaked zombies that would by ten o'clock evolve into his peers at Eritman Industries.

Hoping to have a straight shot to the top floor and avoid any awkward moments shared with male coworkers in the elevator, or any even more awkward conversations with prying female coworkers, he frowned when the elevator stopped at the 8th floor. As the doors opened, his frown melted into a smirk. An answering smirk was on the face of the man who stepped into the elevator, his impressive frame filling the tiny space.

Looking down coquettishly, a snide greeting poised on the tip of his tongue, Kyle started to open his mouth to speak. But a large hand slammed the wall next to his head and Kyle jumped, pressing back against the glass of the elevator in alarm. He glanced to the right and realized the man had pressed the emergency stop button. They were between floors ten and eleven. Storage floors. That meant that if they didn't put in a distress call it could take up to two hours before anyone was willing to put effort into making a stink about the unmoving elevator.

"How do you know I'm not claustrophobic, Fatass," Kyle said smoothly, recovering flawlessly. He gasped slightly as a forceful leg pushed up between his thighs.

"I wouldn't give a shit if you were, Jew," Eric answered, shoving Kyle's slender legs apart before grabbing the redhead's thin wrists, dumping the report he'd been holding to the floor in a noisy flurry of papers. Grinding against the smaller man, he saw that coveted flash of fire in sparkling green eyes. "Look, Kahl, mirrors everywhere so you can what a whore you are from every angle."

"Sure, and you can see a reenactment of The Blob Attacks." His heart quickened as a thread of anger unwound in Cartman's expression at those words. Playfully, Kyle laughed. He arched his body, rubbing his growing erection against Cartman's thigh.

Anger dissolving into spiteful lust, Cartman yanked Kyle by his wrists and threw him into the opposite wall of the elevator, the Jew's surprised expression reflected in the clean glass. He managed to catch himself on the hand railing, facing the wall, but Eric was on him in a second, hands making quick work of his pants as Kyle just tried to hang on and keep himself from falling.

"Patience was never your virtue," he choked out as Cartman spread his ass-cheeks, cool air slipping between them to caress Kyle's opening. Startling when chilly liquid dripped down the crack of his ass, Kyle recovered with a breathy laugh. "You came prepared. Jesus, Cartman."

"I don't want to leave my little Jew waiting," Cartman grunted dismissively, focusing on surrounding the tiny pink rosette with lube before pushing a finger inside. Just thinking about the Jew underneath him was enough foreplay. He was about to blow already. Curling his finger, he added another.

Kyle bucked back, moaning. A trail of precum smudged the glass in front of him. "Hurry up, asshole," he demanded, moving his feet apart further. If he was going to be honest, foreplay from Cartman might creep him out. Totally out of character, if Cartman actually slowed down their pace and took time to pleasure Kyle, the redhead would assume possession. Growling low in his throat, he clenched around Cartman's insistent digits, loving the slow burn of pleasure growing inside of him.

"Yeah, you want me to fill you up," Cartman breathed into the side of his face, sticking more fingers in and scissoring roughly. Kyle bit his lips and Eric licked the side of his face, tasting the sweet skin. "I'm coming in Jew," he warned. Cock hanging out of the opening of his pants, he pushed the dress-shirt up the redhead's back, exposing his lower body completely. Skinny slacks bunched around Kyle's spread thighs, his tie hanging down, swaying slightly as Cartman started to push in.

"F-fuck," Kyle whimpered, biting his own arm through his shirt. He breathed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as Cartman's fat cock crested the tight ring of muscle, slowly breaking through to the other side. "Shit, Cartman," he gasped, writhing while the brunette kept pushing a little too hard and a little too fast so that when the pulsing cockhead smashed up into his prostate Kyle nearly lost his footing, crying out sharply.

"You look so fucking good on my cock, Jew," Cartman panted, angling Kyle's face upwards so that hooded green eyes could see the debauched image in the mirrors. "Beautiful. You were fucking made for this, Kahl," he praised, drawing out until his head was barely held inside. Then he shoved back in, filling the Jew to the brim in one swift motion.

Retort dying on his tongue, Kyle supported himself with his shaking arms, bending slightly each time the big body pummeled into him. His body was burning, heart racing. Trying to catch his breath, he allowed meaty finger to lift his chin so that he had to meet Cartman's eyes. That always unnerved him a little. To stare into those dark eyes during sex. It was at that moment, when their eyes met, that Kyle really felt fucked, through and through. Those eyes threw him down and fucked him dry, dominating him completely. Clenching his teeth, he turned away, resisting, biting into his arm again, and nearly screaming as Cartman hit his prostate with dizzying precision. He didn't miss the feline curl to Cartman's lips as the bigger man doubled his pace, ripping a muffled scream from Kyle as he fucked him to a fast and almost painful completion.

Kyle managed to look half decent by the time Cartman released the emergency catch and the machine hiccupped back to life, bearing them upwards. When it stopped on the floor Kyle needed he started to walk out. Much to his chagrin, it was a struggle to conceal the slight limp he was walking with.

"See you tomorrow, Jew."

Pausing, Kyle glanced over his shoulder as the doors were closing and said, "Bright and early, Fatass."

...

Wednesday evening. The bar was lit with tasteful chandeliers; all trendy bunches of lamps and bulbs. Kyle was losing himself in the one directly above his head, made up of what felt like thousands of mismatched bulbs, left naked to shine with an impenetrable golden light. He barely heard the footsteps stop right next to him, and the soft, strong voice that said his name.

Grinning, Stan glanced around the mostly empty bar before pressing flush against Kyle's back, bringing his arms up to clasp the redhead's wrists, trapping them in prayer for a fleeting moment before capturing plump lips about to raise the alarm. "Kyle," he murmured in greeting, running his tongue just along the inside of Kyle's mouth, the stunned Jew turning several shades of blushing crimson before wriggling out of Stan's hold.

"You're late," Kyle accused, smothering his annoyance with a real smile as a very handsome Stan Marsh slid up into the barstool next to him. He looked dashing in a dress shirt over slacks that should really be illegal they fit so well. "Any good agent should know not to leave their valuable contact waiting. I'm already a turncoat. I could've aborted this mission entirely."

"Secret agents? Kinky," Stan said with an eyebrow wiggle that made Kyle snort into his drink. "What are you drinking?"

"Boring drink. Gin and tonic."

"Huh. I think," Stan said, drawing his words out, "I'll have a Redheaded Slut."

"You dick. That is not a drink!"

"Actually," the bartender cut in, "It is. Do you want a shot or a cocktail?"

"Cocktail," answered Stan, giving Kyle a patronizing wink, "Chimney glass, and go easy on the ice."

"Got it," the bartender said, moving away to make the drink. His eyes made a quick detour over the redhead, taking in the gingeresque features with amusement. A minute later he placed the dark red mixture in front of the man with black hair. Eyes obviously giving the redhead next to Stan the once-over he said, "Here's your Redheaded Slut," in a loaded voice.

Scowling, Kyle opened his mouth to say something biting, but Stan squeezed his thigh under the bar, giving him a pleading look over the rim of his glass. With a muffled "harumph" Kyle relaxed, letting his shoulders drop. Sipping his own drink, he eyed Stan out of the corner of his eye. "Do you want to hear what I've got for you?"

"Will it self-destruct after you tell me?"

"Smartass."

More and more people filtered into the bar while Kyle handed over the classified documents detailing Eritman Industries highly questionable Alaskan drilling venture. Soon Kyle and Stan were pressed on all sides. Jerking his head to the doorway, Stan left his empty glass and made his way for the exit, Kyle close on his heels. Outside he took a deep breath, feeling the threads of alcohol coursing through his veins, giving his body the slightest lift. Hailing a cab, Stan said, "So he's really going to drill there with no permit?"

"Yup, it's bye bye polar bears," Kyle confirmed sadly, "And he's got the politicians eating out of his hands after his generous donations. So opposition is up shit creek, dude."

Narrowing his eyes, Stan stepped back from the curb as a taxi swung in to pick them up. Sitting heavily in the back seat, he muttered his address to the driver in a sullen tone. Kyle gave him a sympathetic look.

"Look, Stan. I did all I could. I convinced him to knock back a few hundred acres so that he wasn't destroying any glaciers or forest." Grimacing, he admitted, "The polar bears happen to live on a spot rich with oil. My hands are tied."

"I know," Stan said sadly, rubbing his hands over his face and back into his hair in exasperation. "This just means I have some fucking work cut out for me. Even though Greenpeace is a pretty huge lobbying group, we don't always come out of the fight in one piece when it comes to Big Oil. Shit. That asshole. He's such a selfish prick."

Kyle rubbed Stan's back, opening his arms as his best friend leaned into them. "I know. But, I mean, good things come of all this shit. I'm making tons of money and helping you out so that Eritman Industries doesn't destroy the entire world. You're the big kahuna at Greenpeace; kicking ass, saving trees, and taking names." He smiled into black hair that smelled slightly sweet, like melons. When Stan offered no reply, he kissed his crown and muttered, "I know a way to get rid of all that stress, Stan."

"Oh?" said Stan, perking up slightly.

Whispering so as to not be overheard by the cabby, Kyle said, "How about I fuck it out of you?"

"That's forward of you," Stan whispered back, stealing a kiss before Kyle leaned away, green eyes darting up to the front seat where the driver sat. "Did you get jealous over my other redheaded slut? Or are you just eager?"

"Douche," he hissed, socking Stan in the arm, unable to keep a smile off his face as Stan laughed and groaned at the same time, holding his arm defensively.

Upstairs in Stan's townhouse, Kyle watched his best friend mix the drink that he was apparently in competition with. The Redheaded Slut took shape before his eyes. Jäger, peach schnapps, cranberry juice. It tasted like a gummy bear with one hell of a kick. If the alcohol content didn't bury him, the sugar content would. "Yikes," he croaked, almost feeling a buzz the moment the alcohol touched his lips. "That's uh, some slut..."

"Don't worry, you taste better," Stan comforted him, barely able to keep the grin off his face. "Seriously, Kyle, you don't have to finish it."

"Well, I'm gonna," he said grumpily. Diabetes be damned, his blood sugar was fine. This slut was going down.

An hour later he wasn't sure how his shirt had come off, or where his pants had gone. Kyle wasn't very sure of anything at all at the moment. Sitting on the floor, cross-legged with his tie in a Rambo-style band around his head, Kyle whipped his head back and forth, looking for Stan. When he found him- -after waiting patiently for the two Stan's registering in his vision to become one again- -he demanded, "Staaaaan, Why do your clothes like you more than mine like me?" His best friend was still completely dressed.

"There's something I have to tell you, Kyle," Stan said conspiratorially, hauling Kyle up to his feet and supporting him with both arms. "The Redheaded Slut doesn't just make you drunk. It actually turns you into a slut if you have red hair."

Looking honestly startled until his tipsy brain soaked in the amusement dancing through Stan's eyes, Kyle gave his friend a wobbly smirk. "Oh," he cooed, leaning heavily into Stan. Then he giggled. "Then how do explain every other time when I haven't had a Redheaded Slut?"

Laughing now, partly at Kyle's words and partly at the fact that Kyle sober would _never ever_ say something like that, _never _in a million years_ ever_. "Now you're a super slut."

"What are my super powers?" Kyle brightened as they moved into Stan's posh bedroom. Stan's sheets felt absolutely divine, and were 100% fair trade organic cotton from Chechnya or something. He face-planted, spread eagle, then did horizontal jumping jacks, as if making a snow angel. The cool slide of the cloth against him felt oh so wonderful.

"Um, zero gag reflex, a super stretch asshole... and the ability to make your tongue feel like three tongues when you're sucking someone off."

"So basically the ability to take like three guys at once?" Sounded good to him. Kyle flopped over to lie face up on the bed, luxuriating in the sheets. A momentary countenance of clarity gripped him and he looked Stan straight in the eye. "Stan. I'm feeling a little impatient. I think my powers might have a time limit."

"Yeah?" He was already pulling off his tie and unbuttoned both pants and shirt with deft skill

"Yes. So you can't waste anymore time."

"I won't," he assured, snaking out of his clothes.

"You need to fuck me now."

"Now?"

"Right. Fucking. Now," Kyle breathed, sitting up on his knees to kiss Stan deeply, smiling into the kiss when Stan divested him of his warrior's hair band and green boxer-briefs. He curled one leg around Stan's side, delighting in the weightless sensation of Stan lifting him and wrapping the other leg around him. He could feel that hard heat between his legs, flush against him. There was always a quiet rush of excitement when he was about to have sex with Stan. He'd never done it tipsy before, and the alcohol flowing through his veins spurred him on when he reached one hand down and cupped Stan through his pants, Kyle himself bucking against the back of his hand as his own dick thrilled at the touch.

"Mmm," Stan moaned, "Kyle, wait. I want to check your insulin levels." He was worried about Kyle's blood sugar after such a sugary cocktail. The redhead grinned at him with a hilarious level of silliness and Stan inwardly rolled his eyes. What usually proved to be a stable alcohol tolerance had been bulldozed by all that sugar.

"Ain't no thang," Kyle giggled.

"Ah. We meet again Ghetto!Kyle," he said, eyebrow raised. Green eyes that were just a tad too bright moved over his face as if seeing him for the first time. Best course of action was to keep the redhead from talking, otherwise Stan would lose his erection. Ghetto!Kyle was a very well-kept secret that only Stan had had the (dis)pleasure of witnessing. This particular version of Kyle was only accessible when his blood-sugar levels were precarious and when that precariousness had been caused by alcohol consumption. Stan kicked himself. Concern for his friend was paramount on his mind, but he couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of annoyance as his erection flagged. Shit.

Suddenly Kyle's eyebrows furrowed and he increased pressure on Stan's dick. "Oh, no you don't!" he ordered, rubbing his palm harder against the other man. "I know you want to tap this ass, so don't play- -mmrmpf." Stan's hand was over his mouth before his could finish his tirade.

In twenty minutes' time Kyle was less tipsy. Stan had opened the store of insulin he kept in the kitchen in case Kyle needed to crash with him. After administering the shot and then testing a tiny bit of blood, Stan was satisfied that Kyle wouldn't go into a diabetic coma in the middle of sex. And as a bonus, Ghetto!Kyle had disappeared and regular Kyle was back to stay.

Drinking a glass of water- -the third Stan pushed at him- -Kyle blinked. He still felt the alcohol, but nowhere near as much as before. What he certainly did feel was a raging hard-on that was in no way negatively affected by drunkenness or Stan's typical motherliness. "Hey," he said, draining the last of the water and slamming the glass down like some saloon cowboy about to challenge someone to a duel.

"Yes?" said Stan, pressing the back of his hand to Kyle's forehead to check his temperature. Slender fingers closed around his wrist and jerked it down. Breath all of a sudden very hard to catch, Stan watch fixedly while Kyle took each of his fingers in turn and slowly sucked it to the knuckle in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit. Green eyes were clearing up, and they looked at Stan with unadulterated lust.

"So maybe my super slut powers have been, uh, _watered _down a bit," he said, casting his eyes to the empty water glass. "But I still want your cock, Stan."

Sexier words were never spoken as far as Stan Marsh was concerned. "Should we move things back to the bedroom?" he ventured as Kyle's lips moved from his fingers up his arm, teeth nipping at his skin. Taking a deep breath, grinning as Kyle shot him a playful look while shrugging his shoulders, Stan grabbed the redhead's hand and dragged him back to the bedroom, practically throwing him onto the bed. Before Kyle could even bounce Stan was over him, pushing between his legs, grinding down into Kyle's erection. Their lips met in a series of heated kisses, increasingly wet and long, tongues flashing between their mouths as hands wandered over each familiar body.

Kyle cupped Stan's ass and pulled him down even closer, spreading his legs wider in order to feel the pulsing outline of Stan's generous cock. "Get inside me," he complained, impatient.

Sitting up, Stan quickly found the lube and squirted a generous amount into his palm. Shining green eyes watched every movement, lips parted with baited breath. This was his favorite part, right before he opened Kyle up. To get to see that expression: a mixture of lust, apprehension, impatience and wonder. Moving a hand down he rested the first slicked finger against Kyle's hole. Shooting the redhead a smoldering look, he husked, "I want you to do it, Kyle."

Licking his already moist and swollen lips, Kyle nodded, arms flexing as he pulled himself down along the smooth, cold sheets. Lifting his knees back towards his shoulders, he pushed himself onto Stan's finger, gasping as it slid into him. "I can do another," he said, knuckles white as they gripped the sheets, securing a more stable hold. Two fingers were harder. Breathing heavily, Kyle yanked at the sheets, pulling himself down and impaling himself on Stan's fingers. When his body had swallowed them Stan began to scissor them and Kyle could feel the beads of sweat forming over his brow. Lowering his eyes, he bit his lips before shakily requesting, "More, Stan."

Minutes later Stan was opening his closed fist like a blooming flower, spreading Kyle wide open. Eyes sweeping up over pale skin, trembling lips and huge dark eyes, Stan began to thrust, sliding in past his fingers along Kyle's inner walls. Bliss forced his eyes closed and his mouth open with a moan. Kyle felt amazing. Tight, hot. It was as if his body was drawing him in. Moving up to sit on his folded knees, Stan paused, reaching over for a pillow to place under Kyle's hips. This way he could thrust straight in, deep and hard. This way he could find that spot that made Kyle scream his name.

When Stan asked him if he was ready in a low, sweet voice, Kyle rolled his hips, rubbing his hands sensuously over his displayed body. That was all Stan needed. With a dashing lopsided grin, Stan delivered his first full thrust, pistoning deep inside of Kyle, filling him with that familiar hard heat. Groaning, Kyle threw his head back, gasping when Stan drew out, only to slam back in. Setting an unforgivable pace, Stan fucked Kyle against the cool sheets, enraptured by red hair, glistening and expressive eyes, and by the erotic cries and moans issuing from red lips.

"Kyle," he husked, working his hips harder, barely able to speak as Kyle clenched around him when he hit his prostate. "Kyle, are you close?"

A weak nod was his answer. Thin arms were spread out on either side of Kyle's body, clutching the sheets as Stan pounded into him. He arched into Stan's lips as they closed around a nipple and sent him higher into ecstasy. He was too close. Stan...

He fisted Kyle voraciously when the redhead started to come, smiling wearily when the redhead screamed his name, body arching up as if possessed to spatter his own chest and face with cum. With that sort of visual, Stan couldn't last. Yelling Kyle's name he pummeled his hole, growling as he shot deep within Kyle's body.

Trying not to laugh, Kyle allowed Stan to usher him back to the kitchen for another blood test to check his insulin levels. As Stan carefully took a sample, intense blue eyes hidden beneath choppy black bangs, Kyle reached up to brush his best friend's shoulder. "You worry too much."

"Dude, you're my best friend," he said by way of explanation. "Okay, your levels are good."

"Good enough for another go?" he asked suggestively, sliding a foot up Stan's side. His breath caught as Stan wordlessly leaned forward and swallowed his dick. "G-guess that means yes?" he said, voice dissolving into a moan.

...

Friday afternoon.

Kyle stared at Kenny for an obscenely long time before the blonde had the decency to look sheepish.

They were sitting in Kenny's ridiculously nice condo, waiting for his sister Karen to leave for class. It was finals week, and the girl was frantically racing around the place trying to find all of her books and materials. While her attention was diverted after a quick hello to Kyle, Kenny had zeroed in on Kyle with an onslaught of stage whispering, contents of which led to Kyle's disbelieving stare.

"You want me to do what?" Kyle finally hissed, eyes burning.

"Look, it's no big deal. I only see you like once a week, but I think about you way more than that," he assured the redhead. "And if I'm on the road then I don't get to see you- -"

"And by see me you mean fuck me in the ass."

Shit, Kenny loved it when Kyle used that goddamn sexy word. He knew that the redhead was just cussing out of irritation, but it was still fucking hot. "Well, I mean, we could have meaningful conversations if you want- -"

"About what?" he said, laughing breathily, glancing sidelong as Karen went sprinting through the room, arms piled high with papers. "What it feels likes to have your stomach full with fifty-six sticks of butter, or a cow's worth of hot dogs?"

"No," Kenny corrected, acting affronted but unable to keep the twinkle out of his eye. "We could also talk about the number of semi trucks I jumped on my motorcycle, or how many minutes I held my breath while frozen alive- -"

"Riveting," Kyle teased, turning when Karen shouted a muffled goodbye from the front hall. The moment the door slammed Kyle was bowled over by an overzealous blonde, and suddenly groping hands were everywhere.

"Well," Kenny growled, "if you won't let me film myself pounding that sweet ass to help with the lonely hours on the road, then at least give me the greatest farewell fuck of all time." Head popping up like a Jack-in-the-Box, Kenny gave Kyle a 100-watt smile. "I've got ideas, and I don't leave til Monday."

"Oh, no," Kyle groaned in very real exasperation. "I've already told you: No cross-dressing, no S&M costumes, and no farm animals."

"No, no, no" Kenny wailed, "It's nothing like that! It's a very simple formula."

When Kenny used words like formula in any situation it was wise to start running. Kyle inched away from the blonde. "Oh?"

"Just you and me, naked as they day we were born. That's it."

"That's it?"

"Just our glistening, writhing bodies entwined in the eternal dance of _amore_."

"I just threw up in my mouth a little."

Frowning, Kenny crawled over the redhead, staring him into the floor with penetrating blue eyes. "I want to take it to the next level with you."

An alarm went off in the back of his head and Kyle listened to it. Slipping out from underneath the blonde with a surprisingly snake-like affect, he shimmied to his feet. "I'm thinking any conversation at all between us is probably a bad idea- -much less a meaningful one. I was kidding anyway."

"Then let's let our bodies do the talking," Kenny crooned. "I got this great book on my last tour down South." His face lit up again and he licked his lips like some ravenous scavenger, still on all fours. "I don't think it's even legal in this country."

"Kenny," Kyle said very calmly, glaring at the blonde wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and playboy boxer-briefs. "If you think I'm going to let you experiment on me with your Bible-Belt-Deliverance-hillbilly sex book, you've got another thing coming."

Expression crumbling, Kenny moped, "So that's a no on trying out the double-kangaroo scissor kick- -"

"I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW," Kyle thundered, turning abruptly and making for the door.

Throwing his hands in the air, Kenny sailed after the redhead, nearly tackling him in a smooshy bear hug, complete with wet kisses. "Kyle, Kyle," he simpered, "I promise I won't use any ninja sex moves today. Proooomise. Just don't take your ass away before we've had our proper reunion! It'd be too cruel!"

Later, when Kenny was running his tongue over Kyle's chest, the redhead sighed. He cast his eyes across the kitchen (they were currently lying on the linoleum floor) to the trophy case exhibited in the entranceway. Shelf after shelf hosted a veritable legion of trophies, plaques and medals. First place for hot dog eating contests, bungee-jumping competitions, and dare-devil after dare-devil challenge lined the wall. Kyle still thought it was a way too dangerous lifestyle to lead when Kenny was the only legal guardian left for his sister. But he could understand. Kenny was a natural at these sorts of things, and because of his continuous risks he'd made bank, and then some. Karen was a sophomore in college thanks to her brother paying tuition, and Kenny was living like a king.

Jumping slightly when teeth closed around a sensitive nipple, Kyle moved his hand into Kenny' soft hair glowing golden with the sunlight streaming down through the sunroof. Now that the Hawaiian shirt was finally gone, Kyle could see Kenny's tan back, muscles working as he guided his hands over Kyle's comparatively pale body. Calluses from riding motorcycles smarted his skin, and Kyle lifted his hips hopefully when Kenny's thumbs swept dangerously close to his cock. Blushing slightly when Kenny moved his teasing fingers away and shot him a smoldering look, Kyle rolled his eyes back up to the trophies. Among the medals and gold statues were ribbons and plaques from local organizations that Kenny had donated generously to. He might act like a tool and earn his money by gorging on things like sticks of butter and hot dogs for money, but Kenny had a heart to match his stomach. Smiling, Kyle closed his eyes and sighed, that sigh fading into a sharp moan when Kenny finally put his hand over Kyle's insistent erection.

"Did you get the pineapple I sent you?" Kenny asked, sitting back on his knees. He was already bending down by the time Kyle answered, licking a line up the redhead's dick.

His breath caught and he struggled to answer while Kenny moved from using his tongue to closing his very talented mouth around the head of Kyle's cock. "Uh, yeah."

"Good, then you'll be extra sweet today," Kenny said around the leaking head, chuckling when Kyle rolled his eyes, then laughing harder as the redhead moaned lightly rolling his hips into the ensuing vibrations.

A blowjob from Kenny was like... Kyle struggled to find the right analogy as his mind cracked, voice strangled as he moaned, burying his fingers in Kenny's thick hair. Like jumping off a building. Kyle's heart was in his throat; his breath was stolen like a doused candle in the night. It just felt fucking wonderful. He arched impossibly, thighs gently squeezing the sides of Kenny's head, pushed up by muscular shoulders. Being blown by Kenny was being taken by Kenny. Throwing his head from side to side, Kyle began to hyperventilate, each breath a helpless whimper as spiraling heat raced through him. "K-Ken- -"

Kyle exploded into his mouth. Kenny held the writhing man down, closing his eyes and sucking, hollowing out his cheeks, face buried to the base of the pulsing dick. Swallowing, he drew his friend dry, licking his lips contentedly when Kyle finally collapsed back to the floor, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Blinking the dancing white lights out of his eyes, Kyle stared upwards, trying to slow down his breathing.

"I want to try something." Kenny interrupted the silence, speaking quickly as he saw the stormy look immediately grow in Kyle's tired eyes. "No, you'll like this."

They moved to the couch, Kenny sitting excitedly down and Kyle following with utmost skepticism. Under Kenny's direction, Kyle straddled the blonde. Eyes narrowing when Kenny drew Kyle's feet up, pushing them up and under the cushions making up the plushy back of the couch. Nails digging into Kenny's shoulders, leaving reddened crescents in their wake, Kyle bit his lip and pushed his ass out for Kenny to prod at his hole. Slick fingers- -Kenny was always prepared- -opened him up slowly and skillfully. By the time Kenny was guiding his erection into Kyle the redhead was hard again and panting like an animal in heat.

Sitting atop Kenny, face red and gasping for breath while his hard cock leaked precum, Kyle looked like Sin itself. Kenny gripped the firm flesh of Kyle's ass and squeezed, testing the angle as he thrust up. Kyle flinched a little, spine stiffening. Leaning forward, Kenny caught his mouth in a kiss, sweeping his tongue over moist lips before gently rocking Kyle back. Still kissing him, Kenny pushed Kyle back until the redhead was lying along his thighs, the uppermost part of his torso hanging off into air. "Hold yourself up, Kyle," he said. Pushing trembling palms into the thick carpet, Kyle held himself up, peering into Kenny's face, eyes a question. "Just wait," he promised with a wink.

Kyle could feel Kenny's cock filling him, huge and hot. Even in stillness, Kenny's massive erection tickled his prostate and it was all Kyle could do not to start impaling himself wantonly. When Kenny's hands dropped to his hips, Kyle met blue eyes, waiting. Then the blonde pushed him, sinewy muscles standing out sharply in his arms as he moved Kyle's body with his own, pushing Kyle away as he rocked his hips subtly back. Then, without warning, he yanked Kyle back hard, teeth clenched, squaring his jaw. Kyle yelped as he slid easily over Kenny's thighs and was invaded again, this time his prostate receiving the brunt of Kenny's thrusting.

Beautiful was a major understatement at this point. Kyle was splayed out before him like some feast, legs fallen to either side of hips, body stretched out, perfect cock bouncing over his belly, trailing precum in a translucent trail. Kyle's face was covered in a lovely blush, and his arms were shaking with the effort to hold himself up as Kenny fucked him. Devouring the sight of the redhead, Kenny pulled harder, yanking Kyle back onto his cock as hard as he could, thrusting his hips forward with enough force to shock a startled cry out of the redhead. He wanted more of that. More noise.

He was fast losing the battle to keep his voice under control. Between that and keeping himself held up, Kyle was overwhelmed. Head lolling helplessly as Kenny continued to mercilessly drive into him Kyle allowed every whimper, moan and cry to come out. "Kenny," he pleaded, "Fuck, please, ahn..."

"Let it out," Kenny panted. "I wanna hear you, Kyle."

"F-fuck me, Kenny, give it to me- -"

"Like that," Kenny moaned, "Just like that, Kyle. Fuck."

"Oh my god," Kyle gasped, body twisting, "I'm go- -"

Without warning Kyle came all over Kenny's chest and his own stomach. Kenny dug his nails deep into soft skin and tore Kyle back and forth, thrusting in and out as if he wanted to break Kyle's body into a millions pieces.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Fuck!"

He came without breath, unable to even inhale as he released inside Kyle. He continued thrusting until it hurt, finally drawing out and collecting his friend against him. They both just breathed for a minute before Kenny laughed.

"That," he declared proudly, "Was called 'Couching Tiger'."

Kyle could only roll his eyes and mutter, "Jesus Christ."

"Whatever," Kenny trilled, "You know want more of my 'Hidden Dragon'."

...

Sunday morning.

He had no idea why the fuck he was up so early. Scowling, Kenny sipped his coffee. It was a total frou-frou drink, with more whipped cream and caramel than actual java. Not that he gave a shit. Calories were calories and besides, the barista was cute. Sending her a leering wink, he chuckled when she blushed. Then he relaxed back in the plush chair, looking around the artificially bright and cheery room. The coffee place was packed, so business must be good. Craig and Tweek made good business partners then. Craig was levelheaded and Tweek knew coffee.

Craning his neck to peer behind the counter, curious if Tweek was around, Kenny jumped and nearly spilled his coffee when someone shouted his name from the entrance of the shop. Cursing as a cloud of whip cream splotched his pant leg, Kenny glared up at Stan, who had the audacity to laugh. "And a fucking good morning to you too, douche."

"Whatever, you have your pants down around your ankles more often than not, so it doesn't really matter if you have a stain on them," sneered Stan, punching Kenny in the shoulder, falling into the chair across from his friend.

"Yeah, all the better for your mom to blow me, Marsh," Kenny grumbled, dabbing at the whip cream stain with a napkin. "Damn, these were like my only clean pair of pants, too."

Changing the subject while Kenny kept on grouching, Stan glanced around and said, "Isn't this a bit early for you? You do know that it's before 4 o'clock, right?"

Giving up on the stain, Kenny defensively gulped his drink before answering. "Karen has this huge paper due tomorrow and she left stuff she needs for it at school. So big brother has to drive her ass all the way over there at God knows when the fuck A.M."

"And you need coffee in order to not fall asleep at the wheel? Don't you only live like fifteen minutes from here?"

"Safety first," Kenny quipped, throwing back the final dredges of caramel and cream.

"Huh, well, next time you come here tell them I sent you and you can get a discount."

"Why? You fuck the boss or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Stan cuffed Kenny on the back of the head as he stood and made his way towards the counter. "No, because I'm a regular customer. They're one of the only fair trade shade-grown organic coffee houses around."

"Huh."

"It's a good thing," he assured the blonde, turning around to order his usual. But Stan froze before the words even left his mouth. Eric fucking Cartman was walking out of the manager's office behind the counter. The manager followed the bigger man out meekly and as if Cartman's presence wasn't a bad enough sign, the manager actually blanched upon seeing Stan, looking for all the world like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Grimacing, Stan strode the length of the counter and stepped in front of Cartman, blocking his path. "What the hell are you doing here, Fatass?" he demanded.

Kenny whirled in his seat, scrambling up onto his knees to get a better view. He wandered if anyone else in the joint would be game for placing bets if Cartman and Stan threw down. Fatty versus vegetarian: who would win?

Narrowing dark eyes, Eric snorted, "Don't get your panties in a twist, Stanley. This has nothing to do with you. We were just talking business."

"Your business ruins life, you dick," Stan snarled.

Customers were craning around to look and the poor manager frantically inserted himself between the two men.

"Now, gentlemen," he started, but Stan spoke right over his head.

"Whatever you just offered, I'm doubling it. Right here, right now. Merriweather?"

At his name the manager jumped, "Y-yes?"

"Call up the owner and let him know Stan Marsh has just doubled Eritman Industries' offer."

"Ha, like you and Green_piss_ have the money," Eric snarled, puffing out his chest.

The coffee house was graveyard silent but for the quiet tap-tapping of the bourgie hipsters that made up most of the clientele. They were hastily posting play-by-play updates on Facebook and Twitter. Others had surreptitiously slid out their iPhones and were taking video. Kenny's expression grew annoyed. Technology ruined everything. There was no way he could place any bets without getting recorded doing so. Oh well. Time to clean up.

"Okay, okay," he said in a commanding voice, waltzing straight up to Cartman and Stan. "Time to go now before you're the next internet meme or something." Dragging both of them out by the lapels of their suit jackets, Kenny deposited his two friends on the sidewalk. Before he could scold mock-scold them, all three of their phones jangled.

Shooting one last seething glare at Cartman, Stan pulled his phone out. It was a text from Kyle: _You still free this Wednesday? How about we celebrate the millionth anniversary of Hump Day together?_ Momentarily forgetting Cartman and Kenny, Stan texted back, unable to keep a smile off his face.

"What are you so happy about, Marshy," Kenny teased, grinning himself. The text had been from Kyle: _You still free Friday? TGIF (thank god I'm fucking). ; p_

Even Cartman was smiling- -well, smirking smugly. The Jew had texted: _You better be ready to solve my Case of the Mondays tomorrow, Fatass._

All three of them smiled at their phones, completely forgetting the other two men.

Finally Kenny noticed the silence after sending a saucy reply to Kyle. "Text from a ho? I don't know why else you'd be smiling all dopy like a tool on nitrous."

"What about you, player?" Stan asked, jabbing Kenny in the ribs with his phone.

"The Ho of Hos," he joked back, parrying Stan's phone jab with his own phone.

"What bitch would be dumb enough to fuck you, Kinny," Cartman said, tucking his own phone away, already imagining the Jew tomorrow morning. Last time wasn't nearly as long as he'd liked.

"Lots," Kenny said, affronted. "I have no wont of pussy or ass, el grande compadre."

"Then what makes that one that just texted so special," Stan asked, honestly curious. When he tried to peek at Kenny's screen the blonde jerked the phone away, a telltale flash of worry causing Stan's eyes to narrow. "Let me see."

"Just some crazy hot chick," Kenny assured him, yanking his phone back as Stan grabbed for it. "But what about you? Some girl makes you look like Christmas came early and you're asking about me? Even the fatass," he pointed out with waggling eyebrows, "You got a sext, too, didn't you?"

Sizing each other up like boxers in the ring, the men were stubbornly silent for a long minute. Then, without warning, Kenny lunged for Stan and wrestled his phone away, darting off like a freak gazelle, howling with triumph. Cursing under his breath, Stan tore after him, followed by Cartman.

They almost ran smack into Kenny as the blonde stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Stan's phone. Shooting the blonde a scathing look, Stan snatched his phone from the stunned man.

"That's my private shit, dude," he said. "It's none of your- -" He barely managed to duck as Kenny's fist came flying at his face. Wheeling backwards, he yelped, "The fuck, Kenny!"

"Don't play innocent, Stan, you shithead," Kenny yelled, barreling into Stan, knocking him to the ground, "How long have you been fucking him, you prick?" He shoved his own phone into Stan's face, the text from Kyle to Kenny displayed clearly on the screen. Stan's eyes grew extremely wide.

"Wait a fucking second," Stan huffed, shoving Kenny off him. He held out his own phone to compare. "You're sleeping with him?"

"I'm fucking him in the ass, yes," bellowed Kenny sarcastically.

Cartman started to laugh, great peels of condescending mirth. "Haha, you two are boning the same bitch?"

"It's Kyle," Stan said miserably. "We're both seeing _Kyle_."

Cartman froze. "_The Jew?_" he hissed in a deadly quiet voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've heard of him," Kenny brayed, splayed out on the sidewalk looking miserable. "The ginger with the most fuckable ass in the nation? _KYLE_."

He could've cut glass with the piercing stare he gave his childhood friends. Stan and Kenny instantly looked wary.

"Cartman?"

"You've been putting your cocks in MY JEW?"

"Your- -" Stan blanched.

Kenny cocked his head to the side, utterly confused. Then he cried, "Phones!" They all held theirs out, texts displayed.

"Holy shit," Stan breathed, eyes scanning the words. "Does this mean... Wait a fucking second. What?"

"Look," Kenny yelped, laughing bitterly as he jammed his finger onto each of the screens. "He sent them all within like seconds of each other. We were a mass text, dudes."

"Whose was first," demanded Eric. They all immediately looked down. Cartman laughed. "Suck my balls, assholes."

"That doesn't mean a thing," Stan said matter-of-factly. "You know Kyle texted alphabetically. "

Brows furrowed, Kenny steepled his fingers and rested them against his lips. "I never knew Kyle had it in him to play anybody, especially us. And we got majorly played."

Cartman broke the following reflective silence. His voice was cold, but there was a lustful glint in his eyes while he spoke. "Kahl works Sundays so that he can weasel out of working Fridays." At that he sent Kenny a death glare. The blonde flipped him off.

"What are you implying?" asked Stan. Anger, hurt, embarrassment, and other emotions were swirling around his mind. Most of all he felt betrayed. So when Cartman said what he said next, Stan felt a rush of meanness and agreed instantly.

Cartman looked first to Kenny and then to Stan. "I say we visit Kahl for some Kosher Sunday brunch."

...

The office building was a ghost town on Sundays, but Kyle liked it that way. He could play music, transport himself via rolling office chair as opposed to walking, and he could take all of the lounge cookies he wanted without the secretaries giving him dirty looks.

When the front office door slammed open Kyle actually shrieked. Probably like a girl, but his mind shied around that and instead focused on the fact that Cartman was at the office on a Sunday.

"Cartman?" he tested, coming out from his cubicle, head cocked. "What are you doing here?"

"Got your text," Eric retorted, coming forward. "And I don't think I can wait until tomorrow. Come to my office."

Wary of Cartman's tone, Kyle stayed where he was. "But we always- -uh- -meet up on Mondays."

"What, you don't like my cock as much on Sundays? Are you some kind of warped fair-weather fan, Jew?"

"Why do we have to go to your office?"

"I want to fuck you on my desk,," he stated bluntly, watching that sexy blush start creeping over Kyle's face.

Nearly choking on surprise, Kyle wheezed, "Uh..."

"C'mon, Kahl," he husked, prowling closer to the redhead. When he was close enough, he pulled Kyle forward by his hips and captured his stunned mouth in a dominating kiss. He channeled his rage and jealousy into that kiss, delving his tongue deep into Kyle's mouth, fingers digging deep into soft flesh. Kyle's protest disappeared into heated breaths and before long Kyle's dick was hard against his leg. Tearing away from the Jew, Cartman left him, striding away.

Stumbling slightly, Kyle followed in a trance. That was the most passionate kiss Cartman had ever given him. Granted, passion was not part of Eric Cartman's natural makeup. For that matter, neither was kissing. Unable to conjure up the strength to entertain a sufficient level of caution though, Kyle made it to Cartman's office, stopping at the doorway. Hesitating just a brief moment, he walked through the door, into the lion's den.

The door slammed behind him, even though Cartman was seated at his desk. Kyle spun around to see Stan and Kenny flanking the door, both expressions a mix of lust and anger. Kyle gulped audibly.

Strolling past the redhead, Kenny swept in for a quick kiss, biting Kyle's lower lip hard enough that the other man winced, Kyle's hand going to cover his mouth as Kenny leaned against Cartman's desk. Immediately after, Stan's arms were around his waist, pulling him back, tongue winding erotically around the sensitive shell of his ear. Kyle could barely catch his breath as Stan walked away, standing on the opposite side of the desk from Kenny. The three of them looked at him and he immediately knew everything.

"Shit," he said quietly.

"All right, Kyle, " said Kenny smoothly, perching atop the chestnut desk with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Go ahead and try to explain."

Looking from one familiar face to the next, Kyle huffed, pouting. "Why are you complaining? I don't recall exclusivity ever coming up with any of you."

"Maybe you never gave us the chance," Stan interjected morosely.

"Yeah, you were too busy bringing something else up," Kenny lewdly announced.

"Wait a fucking second," Kyle interrupted loudly, openly glaring at the three of them. Color was already starting to spread up his face and it only infuriated him more when Kenny and Cartman both looked smug. Assholes loved it when he got riled like this. "Hear me out," he continued, turning to look at his best friend, Stan. "I know you prefer women, dude. I honesty don't know why you sleep with me, but you're going to marry a woman someday."

Stan frowned. "So you can tell the future now? You don't know that for sure, Kyle."

Looking more dismayed by the second, Kyle beseeched the blonde, "Kenny, seriously, you're already seeing other people. You even showed up with fucking _lip gloss_ on your _dick_ last week." When Kenny just shrugged, he spun on his heel with an accusing finger pointed at Cartman. "And you... Really? This is already as wrong as it needs to be between us. Trying to have a real relationship would only end in homicide."

"Oh, Jew," Cartman sighed. "You played us."

"N-no, I didn't. I mean, not really," he ended lamely as Stan walked up to him, sliding his fingers through red hair as if he owned it. Kyle cringed. "W-what are you going to do?"

"We're just making sure you're fed, Kyle," Kenny said, eyes wide and innocent.

Cartman caught on immediately. "Yeah, Kahl. You just snack here and there during the week. You haven't had a nice big meal in too long."

"Way too skinny, just look," Kenny told the others, pulling Kyle's dress shirt out of his pants. "Skin and bones!"

"Stan," Kyle pleaded, "I didn't drink a Redheaded Slut today." Smiling shakily, he joked, "I don't have my super powers."

Stan, fingers still tangled in red strands of hair, slid his free hand up to cup the redhead's pretty face. "Just let it happen, dude," he whispered against trembling lips, sealing them in a hot kiss as Kenny and Cartman moved in for the kill.

They were on each side at once and Kyle could barely comprehend it as Kenny's mouth attacked his and Cartman's hands ripped at his shirt, tearing it from his body. His slacks crumpled down his legs, followed by his underwear as Kenny guided them down and away from his body, nibbling along Kyle's inner thigh, hand going up to grip his ass possessively.

Stan, shaking his head to clear the guilt as Kyle let out an involuntary moan, wrapped his hand around Kyle's cock and slowly moved it up and down, almost unable to meet Kyle's glistening eyes as the redhead beseeched him. He pumped the Jew harder, moving in closer to feel Kyle's body. After a moment he couldn't handle it, and he stepped away to strip. Kenny's eyes trailed away from Kyle to scan Stan's generously sculpted body, humming in appreciation, taking over Kyle's pleasure as Stan returned, hungrily devouring Kyle's open mouth, ripping one of the redhead's legs up to wrap around his naked hips.

Behind him Cartman's cock was already free from his lowered pants and he felt the searing hot head trailing over his ass. Then fingers were there, slick and hot, pushing into him; Kenny expertly twisting his long digits and forcing them inside of Kyle far too soon. Whimpering, Kyle struggled against Stan at his front, scraping his nails down his best friend's chest, clenching his teeth at the stinging pain. Then Cartman shoved him and he staggered forward, legs buckling. The three of them followed like circling hounds. Kenny pushed Kyle's face into the carpet while Cartman jerked his hips into the air. Stan's hand was on the redhead's dick again, moving over it with confusingly adept touches. Kyle gasped into the floor.

"Fuck," Kenny breathed, fisting himself, aroused by the sight of multiple hands all over Kyle's body. "I want his mouth first." He was given a silent nod from Stan and was ignored by Cartman, whose eyes were stabbing into Kyle's ass, fingers already there, pulling, pushing, spreading much too quickly.

"Let me open him up," Stan said. He crawled behind Kyle, who was barely able to hold himself up on trembling legs. Under Cartman's watchful gaze, Stan lowered his mouth to Kyle's ass and began to loosen his hole, hoping through the anger and hurt he felt that this could at least ease the way for his friend.

A few minutes later the three of them were each fisting themselves, free hands still ruling Kyle's body, keeping him pinned and still even as he struggled.

"When are we gonna get o the fucking," Kenny asked, eyes on Kyle's face as the redhead panted into the carpet.

"Now," Stan, and aligned his cock with Kyle's hole. The next second he shoved in and shut his eyes as Kyle screamed into the carpet.

It was a while before Kyle could speak again, face a battleground of emotions, his entire body beaded with sweat and trembling uncontrollably.

"I... I can't. Stan, please," Kyle whispered, his voice threadbare and weak.

"You can," Stan said tightly, grunting as Cartman's slick cock nudged up next to his. "You can, Kyle."

Kenny petted Kyle's hair. "Don't focus on them," he purred, bumping the head of his dick against the redhead's swollen mouth. "C'mon, Kyle. Suck it." A thin whimper escaped Kyle as he tried to turn his head, tears trailing around the sweat-streaked lines of hair clinging to his face. Kenny's hand firmly caught his jaw, pushing it back towards his leaking cock. "Just lick it, Kyle," he urged in a quiet, intense voice. "Just a little taste."

Stan, still seated in Kyle's searing heat, silently applauded Kenny's strange and eerie persuasive abilities. Cartman had lined up to Kyle's abused hole, and Stan slowly started to inch out, eyes on the back of Kyle's head, read hair threaded with the slender flesh-colored shapes of Kenny's fingers tangling deeper as he guided Kyle's head down.

Impatient, Cartman shoved a lubed finger in next to Stan's dick, wrenching the skin open impossibly wide to create a sleeve of flesh he could push into. Kyle gave a ragged cry, immediately choked as Kenny thrust in, hitting the back of his throat with brutal aim. Kyle gagged and coughed, tears pouring from his eyes. His hands twisted, all at once reaching behind him to scrape nails weakly against Cartman's leg, while the other hand pushed at Kenny's hips. Cartman took the opportunity and began to work himself in alongside Stan, groaning as Kyle's spasming hole swallowed him.

"Fuck," he moaned, "Tight."

Stan shivered as he felt Cartman's cock slide along his own. He waited as Cartman came down from the initial shock. When he began to move, Stan matched him, sliding in to fill Kyle in turns.

Kyle was sobbing, back jerking as Cartman and Stan fucked him simultaneously, animalistic grunts and moans pouring from their mouths like dirty water, washing over him and staining him. He squeezed his eyes shut, lips burning as Kenny continued to fuck his mouth with deep, painful thrusts, forcing his entire length down Kyle's throat.

"Take it, Kyle," Kenny whispered. "Let me fuck you."

Stan bucked against the round ass faster, Cartman matching his pace. They crashed in and out of Kyle, legs tangling as the overwhelming heat flooded their bodies. Stan gripped Kyle's hips in a punishing hold, bruises blossoming as Cartman's fingers joined him, nails digging into Kyle's slim hips and yanking him back to be impaled again and again as they both rode him.

Kenny threw his head back, hips snapping back and forth. "Yeah, fuck yeah," he yelled. "Kyle, you feel so fucking good!" Brutally he shoved Kyle's head down, forcing his face flush against his stomach. Slowly rotating his hips, he held Kyle there, suffocating him and enjoying the benefits: throat tightening in panic, muffled pleas sending pleasurable waves over his flesh.

"Don't kill him," Stan panted, bringing a hand down hard on Kyle's ass, leaving a stark red mark. Cartman was leaning over the redhead hungrily, drawing blood as he dug his teeth into the joint of Kyle's shoulder and neck.

Kenny tore Kyle off of him, watching him gasp and choke for breath. Beautiful green eyes were sparkling with tears, long lashes like short swipes of ink dusting his cheeks. He grinned at Stan, catching the dark blue eyes with a mischievous look. "Can't help myself," he said, grabbing Kyle by his hair in a punishing hold. "Can't help but wanna..." He ripped Kyle forward, forcing his cock past swollen lips, "...fuck him." He resumed his punishing pace, fucking Kyle's mouth with sharp, rough thrusts, watching as the tears continued to fall.

Cartman was almost wheezing, hips straining against Kyle's ass as they picked up the pace. He leaned over Kyle's back, feeling the taught muscle tightening beneath his fingers as they danced up Kyle's spine to grip his shoulder.

"Hey Jew," he breathed, words intertwined with moans to draw them into keening lines of sound. "You love this, don't you slut? All this cock inside of you; fucking you. You're gonna feel it for weeks, Kahl. You're gonna leak cum out of your tight little ass for days."

Kyle screamed angrily around Kenny's cock, voice shuddering into a groan as Kenny yanked on his hair in warning.

"Listen to him, Kyle," Kenny said, voice nothing but air as he finally yanked out of Kyle's mouth. "He's right. Who knows how many loads we're gonna blow in your ass. Maybe for every time you cheated... on each of us."

"He'd explode," Stan grunted, still thrusting in and out of Kyle, quickening the cadence as Cartman's rhythm became more erratic.

"Gonna.. c-c-" Cartman started, practically shoving Stan out as he took over Kyle's ass, slamming his hole with violent lust. When he came he kept pounding, cussing with every wave of pleasure as Kyle tightened around his bursting cock. After a few moments he pulled out, dripping.

Stan pushed back into place, sinking into Kyle slowly, allowing his body to readjust. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Cartman smearing his dick along Kyle's cheek, or Kenny reinserting himself into a thrashing Kyle's mouth. Focusing on the velvet grip, the wet heat, and the drum-like beating of his heart, Stan started to thrust again, already close. Small, forced moans broke free, almost drowning out the slapping sounds of his balls on Kyle's ass that accompanied each hard thrust. His movements were steady and long. Part of him found bitter humor in that. He had wanted their relationship to be steady and long. With that bittersweet thought, his orgasm rose quickly and he broke the pace to slam into Kyle five or six more times, freezing deep inside as he finally released, filling Kyle enough that the redhead yelped. White seeped out around the base of his dick, dripping onto the carpet as he drew out.

Kyle's hands were bracing him on the floor, knuckles white. His ass was a wide, yawning mouth. Tired eyes could barely open anymore, exhaustion and adrenaline stringing his energy out. Stan's hand was in his hair again, and Cartman's hand was on his ass, pinching painfully. Kenny's fingers were on his own nipples, teasing them as he raped Kyle's mouth, hands free. At this point Kyle's tongue was numb, and his throat felt as stretched as his asshole.

Throwing his head back, Kenny rolled up onto the balls of his feet, hands going down to shove the back of Kyle's head down. He could feel the panicked seizures of Kyle's throat closing around his cock as the redhead fought for breath. Then there was another hand tangled in red hair, pulling Kyle partway off of Kenny, choking and coughing. Shooting Stan a quick glare, Kenny started to whimper as his orgasm hit. Urgently he fisted himself, murmuring, "Fuck, fuck."

Kenny came on Kyle's face, semen spattering over his hair, eyes, into his mouth. The three of them gave a collective moan, watching while Kyle collapsed onto the floor and tried to catch his breath, leaking cum from both ends.

"I think I could go again," breathed Kenny enthusiastically.

"Hands off my Jew, Kinny," Cartman snapped.

Stan looked ill. "Fuck, what did we just do?"

Green eyes like pools of acid opened to glower darkly at all of them. Cum still all over his face, Kyle struggled to sit up. When he'd caught his breath his eyes sliced across the three men. "I'm not your fucking Jew, Fatass," he said, voice throaty. "And Kenny, if you come near me I will snap your dick in half. And Stan." He looked at his best friend. "You just did something really shitty. Really fucking shitty."

"Pfft, whatever," Kenny snarked. "Like this hasn't been a fantasy of yours."

Turning bright red, Kyle squawked, "What?"

"Yeah, you don't remember when we were high, do you?" Addressing Stan and Cartman, Kenny said, "He went on and on about getting gangbanged by the three of us as his kinky fantasy."

"Yeah, well in the fantasy my consent was involved, you prick!"

"When did you say no?" Kenny raised his eyebrows. He grinned as Kyle sputtered, face darkening. "We're a harem, guys," he said in a congratulatory tone to the other two, raising his hand in a mock salute.

"I hate you all right now," Kyle groaned, grabbing his discarded shirt to start wiping himself off. "Hate you, hate you, hate you."

"That's fine, angry sex is the best," Kenny piped up as Stan scooted over to the Jew

Grabbing another shirt to help Kyle clean up, Stan said, "So is this how you want it to be? The four of us screwing around?"

"I like it that way," he said defensively. "You each give me something completely different. It's not healthy at all," Kyle continued with a pointed look at Cartman, who sneered at him. "But I've been enjoying it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"What if we don't want to share you?" Stan asked. Then he gasped as Kenny leaned in beside him and began unabashedly to tongue his ear. "K-Kenny, what the fuck?"

"Why don't we try it for a little longer," the blonde breathed persuasively. "I'm curious about it."

"Well, you can have your stupid sausage-fest, " Cartman griped. "But I still get the Jew on Mondays."

"_If_ I feel like it, Fatass," Kyle snapped. He shivered when Cartman grabbed him roughly and yanked him closer.

"You know I'm like a drug, Jew," he husked against Kyle's face before standing and getting dressed.

Still rubbing against Stan, Kenny laughed, curling an arm around Kyle's side to pull him back. "Well, this is a fucked-up situation that definitely isn't going to end well. But I'll be damned if I'm not going to enjoy it while it lasts."

Turning Kyle's head to kiss him, Stan murmured, "Okay, so maybe I can learn to share."

Kyle sighed, giving into the kiss. "Then I will definitely be needing a regular supply of Redheaded Sluts."

...

A/N: I just realized this is basically four one-shots tied together. Also, their occupations in this story will appear in other stories I'll write. I think there's potential with them, so I likey.

The Redheaded Slut is a real cocktail, and fucking delicious. What's your favorite drink? Tell me in your review (they don't have to have alcohol!). : )

-Villain


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